At the friends' gathering, my boyfriend's childhood sweethearts, Emily, was present as well. She glanced at the table full of food I ordered, wrinkled her nose, and said to my boyfriend, "Mikey, you know I don't like sour stuff..."

Without a second thought, my boyfriend called the waiter over to switch the dishes.

Everyone was shocked, looking at me as if waiting for me to explode. Instead, I led the cheer, saying, "Wow, childhood sweethearts really do stick together. Should I go ahead and call the wedding planner?"

——

Emily had just graduated from college and moved to the city where I lived. At that precise time, I had an acute appendicitis attack and needed surgery.

As someone needed to sign the surgery consent form, my boyfriend, Michael Johnson, received a phone call. It was from Emily. She said she had arrived early and was at the airport, unable to find the exit, and needed Michael to pick her up.

Michael tossed the pen aside, asked the nurse to take care of the surgery consent, and hurriedly left.

I winced in pain watching him rush out and closed my eyes in resignation.

When I woke up after the surgery, I glanced at my phone. Emily had posted a status update with a pouty selfie and a "coincidental" shot of Michael's arm as he drove. The caption read, "I knew Mikey would always be my Honey." Michael had liked the post and commented, "Of course, I've always been with you."

I put down my phone and closed my eyes again. It wasn't until the next day that Michael came to see me in the hospital room. He brought a bouquet, trying to surprise me, saying, "Ta-da! Aren't they beautiful? Do you like them?"

I endured the pain and looked at him expressionlessly. He pretended nothing had happened and continued, "These are the magenta Floyd roses you love. I had to search through several stores to find them."

I pointed out, "I like Amber Rose, Floyds are Emily's favorite."

"What?" Michael said with an awkward laugh, "Well, they're all roses, right? They're beautiful, and you'll surely like them too."

I was too tired to argue anymore and turned my head away to rest.

In the past, I would have argued with him in situations like these. He always said, "Emmy's just like a sister to me, we've grown up together. There's nothing going on, and if there were, it would have happened long ago, even before you came along."

Yes, it was me who pursued Michael. We were alumni at the same university and met during a cultural performance in our sophomore year. Seeing him on stage playing the piano, suave and gentlemanly, he instantly captured my heart.

I initiated the pursuit, and after nearly six months, he finally agreed to give us a try. We were happy for a long time until we both graduated about a year and a half later.

On graduation day, Emily arrived from another city, arms loaded with flowers, affectionately calling him "Mikey" at every opportunity as she celebrated his graduation.

From that day on, endless arguments began between Michael and me. All over Emily.

After a year of fighting, I realized I was exhausted. Or maybe I got used to the fact that there was always an Emily between me and Michael. I no longer had the strength to be upset.

In the past, I would weep through the night, heartbroken, feeling like my world had collapsed. I couldn't accept that the man I pursued and loved for so long would focus all his attention on a childhood friend he barely saw once a year.

Now, I can endure surgery alone and bear the pain when the anesthesia wears off. Seeing Michael with the flowers Emily liked barely stirs anything in me.

It's as if the person standing before me isn't the boyfriend I loved so deeply, but just another passerby.

A few days after I was discharged from the hospital, Emily showed up at my house. She stood in front of me with a basket of fruit, looking slightly apologetic, and said, "Juliana, I'm so sorry about the other day. That airport was so big, I went around in circles and couldn't find the exit, so I had to ask Mikey to come pick me up."

Sitting on the sofa, I looked at her coolly and said nothing, just feeling the noise buzzing in my ears.

Michael poured Emily a glass of water and chimed in, "Juliana, don't read too much into it. Emmy's a year younger than I am, and I've always taken care of her like a little sister."

"Yes, exactly," Emily added, "My mom and Mikey's mom have been best friends for years, and our dads are old classmates. So, Juliana, just think of Mikey and me as siblings."

Listening to the two of them in sync made me raise an eyebrow. Michael placed the fruit basket Emily brought on the coffee table and said, "Juliana, Emmy just got here and is still staying in a hotel. I'm going to help her find an apartment, so you just take it easy at home."

Emily gave Michael a sweet smile and said, "Mikey, you're so considerate. No wonder Mom and Mrs. Johnson said I should come to you after graduation."

I couldn't listen any longer. "You two better get going then. Don't waste any time; it's not good for her to be staying in a hotel alone."

Michael seemed surprised by my words. "Juliana, you're not upset, are you?"

He had a point. Every time Emily called saying she felt down, Michael would patiently comfort her for ages, even if we were in the middle of a date.

I remember once, after celebrating New Year's Eve in Times Square, it was nearly impossible to find a cab. We had to walk through the crowded streets. Emily called then, saying she felt lonely being away for school in another city, with no one to spend New Year's with.

Michael stood there for an hour, consoling Emily until his phone battery died. On New Year's Day, I ended up having a huge fight with Michael. He accused me of being immature, saying I was starting the new year off on the wrong foot with all the arguing.

So, when I urged them to go ahead and find an apartment, Michael was a bit surprised at my indifference.

"I'm not angry. After all, she's like a sister," I said.

Hearing this, Emily pouted a little and told Michael, "Mikey, you're so lucky to have such an understanding girlfriend like Juliana. Unlike me, who just causes trouble for you…"

I couldn't stand Emily's pretended innocence any longer and promptly showed them the door. Finally, some peace and quiet.

When Michael returned that evening, I had already showered. He mentioned he'd spent the whole day helping Emily find a place and hadn't eaten dinner yet, expecting me to cook.

In the past, I would have quickly obliged, heading to the kitchen to make his favorite meals. But today, I looked at him coolly and said, "I'm too tired, and I need to rest after being sick, so I'm not cooking tonight."

Michael seemed taken aback again. "Juliana, you weren't like this when you were chasing me," he complained.

Indeed, back then, I promised I'd cook delicious meals, learn cuisines, and keep the household organized.

After graduation, as we moved in together, I followed through—making breakfast early, cooking dinner after work, and preparing his lunch.

For the past year, my biggest worry was him missing meals, fearing he'd upset his stomach, something that would pain me greatly.

But now, I simply didn't want to cook anymore.

"Think whatever you want," I replied indifferently.

Michael appeared genuinely shocked, seemingly unprepared for such a response from me—the one who had always been so accommodating.

"Oh, and by the way, since I'm still recovering, you'll have to sleep on the couch from now on. It folds out and should be fine," I added.

That seemed to anger Michael. With no dinner and no bed, he snapped, "Juliana, do you even know what you're saying?"

"Sure do," I replied nonchalantly, "So, goodnight."

With that, I left him there and went back to my room.

A half-minute later, I heard the door slam shut. Michael had left. Perhaps to find Emily? I didn't know, and frankly, I didn't care.

I hadn't seen Michael for several days. I wasn't sure if he had even been home. The couch remained perfectly neat, without any signs of use, and I had no idea where he'd been staying, or if he was eating well.

I used to be someone who tormented herself. After every argument, I'd be upset for a long time. My mind would spiral, imagining what I'd do if things ended with Michael. The thought alone used to terrify me, overwhelming me with a preemptive heartbreak.

He was the man I had worked hard to win over, and the idea of losing him so easily felt debilitating. I admit I was rather obsessed with our relationship back then. Around the time we graduated, I pinned all my hopes for the future on Michael. He'd studied architectural design and had a good job with a solid income. I'd even fantasized about being a homemaker for him one day.

I imagined sunsets in our kitchen, wearing an apron while cooking, our child playing on the sofa as Michael wrapped his arms around my waist and sweetly asked, "Honey, what delicious meal have you made for me tonight?"

The mere thought of this scene used to fill me with blissful happiness.

But now, I wasn't caught in an emotional whirlpool anymore. Perhaps it was the day of the appendectomy, lying alone on the operating table, the tears flowing before the anesthesia set in. Or maybe it was realizing his absence after the surgery when he didn't return promptly to be with me, only to show up the next day with flowers Emily liked.

That was the moment my heart truly shut down. With my focus no longer on Michael, I suddenly found myself with a lot more time.

One Friday before closing, a colleague, Jane, mentioned she needed to attend Parent-Teacher Conferences the following day. She had originally planned to work overtime with an audit firm she had scheduled.

This unexpected conflict was a big deal, and with Saturday being the weekend, no one in the department wanted to work extra hours. Since I had nothing else to do—and with Michael intentionally avoiding me with his silent treatment—I offered to fill in for her.

Jane sighed in relief, profusely thanking me.

I thought nothing of it at the time, but it turned out that Jane spoke to Mr. Green, our CFO, about my proactive nature, describing me as a reliable finance worker. It just so happened to align with this year's salary and position reviews. Mr. Green put in a good word for me with Mr. White, the HR Director, and I unexpectedly received a significant raise.

It was an eye-opener for me. I realized women can indeed rely on their own hard work and efforts—life doesn't end without a man by your side.

That experience ignited a newfound passion for my work. While in college, when peers were busy earning certifications, I had been caught in the whirlwind of trying to make Michael happier and more reliant on me. So, I had not pursued any certifications myself.

After graduation, seeing peers with CPAs earning high salaries, I naively thought I didn't need to push myself too hard since I had Michael, and I feared nothing.

But now, Michael was no longer my rock. I had to rely on myself.

I began diligently reviewing the company's accounts, handling my responsibilities carefully, often being the last to leave the office. One evening, I was so engrossed in my work that it was only at ten that I finally headed home.

As I was leaving, I noticed a money tree toppled over outside the company across the hall. I quickly righted it, brushing the dirt off my hands and preparing to leave.

Just then, a man in a suit emerged from the elevator. Noticing me near the entrance, he approached and said with a polite curiosity, "Hello, I haven't seen you around here before. May I ask who you are?"

In a hurry to explain, I replied, "I work in finance with the company across the hall. I noticed your tree was down and decided to help. I'm not trying to steal it."

Amused, the man took a business card from his pocket and handed it to me, saying, "Thank you. Here's my card. What's your name?"

Glancing at his card, I saw it read "Ethan Carter, General Manager of Alliance Corp"—our neighbor across the hall.

I didn't take the card and simply replied, "No need to thank me," before quickly hurrying away. I preferred to stay under the radar—no need to draw attention from someone like a general manager.